


Narnia, The Last Battle

by fallingfromresolution



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:05:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingfromresolution/pseuds/fallingfromresolution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Alternative Narnian tale based on the last instalment of the series: The Last Battle. More magic and dangers as Erica, a servant and orphan, discovers her past and her destiny...WOAH COOL...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago and haven't read it for a while. Reading it now is just embarrassing, but I hope you like it anyway. This is child-me writing so please don't judge harshly!

She had been walking for days. With each night it grew colder. But she hardly noticed pain in her head or the numbness of her feet, her mind was in a different place. With her daughter. That was the only thing that she could think of was her children. She was afraid for them, they were only infants. She cursed herself for being so foolish, at not seeing the signs. Now everyone was in danger. She was disturbed from her thoughts when it started to rain. At first it was only light, slipping smoothly off her oil cloak, but within three minutes it was raining heavily and already starting to seep into her cloak. She trudged on seemingly unperturbed by the downpour, until she found her legs would carry her no further. So she turned to the mountains on her left and spotted a cave. When she got there she was too tired to make a fire so she curled up as far back in the cave as she dared to venture and drifted into an uneasy sleep. When she woke the next morning it was still raining but she could see clearly a small river, which marked the border to Archenland. On the Northern side of the border there lay barren land but on the Southern side was a dense forest. But to her right was Mount Pire, standing high above the grey clouds. An icy wind swept past her as she came out of the cave and within a minute she was soaked to the bone. She started for Mount Pire but suddenly there came a howl from behind her. She knew of the wolves in these parts, they were notoriously bloodthirsty and would stop at nothing to get their prey. She thought about going back into the cave but then she would be cornered she thought. So she ran, her heart beating loudly and her breathing uneven. All at once the feeling came back to her feet and the pain that had been gathering was almost unbearable. Still, she willed herself to go on. The river was closer now, but so were the wolves. Once she was across the river into Archenland she would be safe, the wolves wouldn’t dare enter anothers territory. She looked behind her to see three shaggy wolves, two black and one a dirty grey, their sharp teeth bared and their yellow eyes gleaming. She stumbled over a rock but kept herself on her feet, her eyes fixed on the river. One of the wolves, the grey one who was much bigger than the others, overtook the other two and leapt at her, grabbing onto the back of her cloak with it’s teeth. She looked behind her and took in a sharp breath. She tried desperately to shake the beast off but it only growled and pulled her back harder. So she took her cloak off and ran again with all the power she had left, leaving the wolf to tear stupidly at the cloak. But the other two were still after her. She ran ignoring her throbbing head and dry throat. She finally came to the river. The water was flowing swiftly but she had no other choice but to swim. She looked behind her. The wolves would be upon her in seconds so she plunged into the icy water that made her gasp for air and swam. She could feel her body becoming numb but she was so close to the other bank. She pushed herself one last time and grabbed onto a rock. She hauled herself up with the last piece of strength she had, gasping for air. The wolves stood on the other side of the river, growling savagely. For a minute she thought they might swim and come after her. But they soon turned their backs and ran away howling. She lay on her back, took in a deep breath and let it out. Her legs were still dangling in the water but it soothed her throbbing feet. It had stopped raining but the clouds threatened to begin again. Despite her feet she got up after a few minutes and started for the forest. It would be Winter soon and she had to complete the task she had set herself, before Winter and before the snows set in. More importantly before the pass back to Narnia was blocked. She looked down at a locket around her neck, it shone in the last rays of the sun that came from over Mount Pire. It was risky, leaving her children. If their secret was discovered it would put not only the family, but the whole camp in danger. The oldest of the two children had learnt to speak very early, but what frightened her mother and father the most was his affinity for animals, (non talking ones) especially birds. This may not have bothered any other parent but their underlying family history called for caution. Then the youngest was born, she was small and weak, most said she wouldn’t live. But one morning she made a miraculous recovery, one that no one could explain. She too even as an infant loved birds, she would often watch birds sitting in their nests while her mother told her stories of the golden age of Narnia and all the wonderful adventures of Queen Susan, Queen Lucy, King Edmund and the High King Peter. She sighed as she remembered her own mother telling her of such stories. It all felt so very far away. The golden age was far in the past. Now everything was different, life was harsh and the war seemed to have gone on forever. No where was safe from the Bandits or the Rebels. So far they hadn’t come as far South as their camp, but it was only a matter of time. Now she stood facing the thick forest. It was dark, even though the moon was full. It was beginning to rain once more. But she knew that she had to go in. She knew the forest well so she had nothing really to be afraid of, but then again, she had everything to be afraid of. The trees were too thick to see through but she could smell smoke. She walked slowly and steadily into the depths of the masses of tall trees. Some of the trees were scorched and black, probably the work of a small firestorm, she thought, doubt sitting at the back of her mind. After ten minutes walks she could see a faint orange flicker of a fire blazing in the distance. The trees swayed in time with the pitter patter of the raindrops falling on their branches. She was now nearing a small canopied clearing filled with the orange light. Her footsteps were heavy so when she was close enough to see a shadowed figure’s back the silhouette turned sharply at the sound of her dragging feet. His face was grave but relieved to see her face. His face was tanned, though it was hard to tell since it was covered with dirt. Under all the dirt lay a stern face with subtle features. You could still see his eyes clearly, full of truth and knowledge, eyes of someone who had seen horrors. She stepped into the clearing suddenly feeling her exhaustion. Her knees crippled beneath her and the man stood up swiftly, taking her hand and helping her slowly down. “It has been a long time sister,” the man said, searching his sisters face.  
“Yes it has...hasn’t it,” she said returning a quick glance, panting a little.  
“What has happened, dear sister, why do you have need to see me so urgently... and here?” he reached out and touched her hand but retracted quickly. “You are freezing, come sit near the fire,” he reached out and took her hand again, pulling her towards the warmth. Once they were settled he looked at her pale face and spoke once more. “You have come far, yet you do not talk to me. Are you not pleased to see me as I am you?” he said with a slight smile that made him look years younger. His sister did not smile nor reply. She just stared silently into the fire that illuminated her face. After a time of listening to the fire crackling she spoke and shattered the silence. “Did you bring what I asked of you?” she said, still looking into the flames.  
“Yes,” her brother replied simply. He stayed unmoving for a while and then reached into his pocket and brought out a bronze locket, the chain was long and tangled but the locket itself was intricately patterned and engraved with a picture of a phoenix. It was quite beautiful but he cringed at the sight of it and handed it roughly to his sister who had also brought out an identical locket from under her shirt. “Why should you ask me to bring this evil thing to our meeting?” he asked, anger burning in his words. “Why should we, as so many of our ancestors before us, have to put up with these cursed things!” he went on angrily.  
“You know why, we both do,” his sister replied calmly. She paused, clasping her hands together. “When the time comes and the right person comes what we, and our ancestors have suffered will have been worthwhile.” She paused again and looked into her brothers face. “I assume you remember the prophecy,” she said sternly, looking into his eyes for the first time.  
“I have tried to forget my past that revolved around that piece of paper and those silly lockets. Maybe it would be wise if you did the same Kella,” he whispered, putting emphasis on his sisters name.  
Kella seemed not to care, only disengaging her eyes from her brothers. “I am not scared of the deep magic that binds our family to the prophecy. I know, Alad, that when the Keeper comes all will be rewarded,” she said indignantly.  
“We will be dead before the keeper comes,” Alad shouted. There was an eerie silence between the two for a long time. Finally Kella looked at him with gleaming eyes. “I do not think so,” she whispered.  
Alad’s expression changed abruptly. “Tell me sister, what has happened,” Alad said moving slightly closer, urgency in his voice. “Dameon, you think he is the Keeper? But how he is your only child and...” he was cut off by Kella.  
“No the prophecy says it will be a girl, and yes, there must also be a boy, the eldest, and a girl, the youngest,” Kella explained slowly.  
“You’re not saying...” Alad began, but he stopped.  
“I hoped that maybe the lockets would skip a generation, I don’t want my children going through what we did,”  
“Kella,” he said. “Is it a girl?” he asked questions swimming in his head.  
“Yes, it is a girl,” said Kella looking at her hands in despair.  
“And you think she is the one? The Keeper?” whispered Alad, although he did not know why.  
“It is hard to tell now, although when she was born, we were certain that she would die. But she recovered within twelve hours, it was remarkable,” she paused. “If she is the Keeper, when should I tell her?” she asked.  
“I’d say she’ll find out for herself,” answered Alad, looking up to the sky. The sun was rising but there was still a chill in the air. Kella also looked up. “We have talked for some time,” she said, still looking up. Alad only nodded. Then they both looked at each other. “The pass will be blocked soon,” said Kella seriously. “I must go. Take care brother.” she said, standing up stiffly, a hint of sadness in her eyes. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment folded in half. Alad stood up. Kella looked at it thoughtfully then handed it to Alad. “Incase you forget,” she said dryly, trying to smile. She turned and walked to the edge of the clearing. Alad watched her go and then stared at the parchment. Then he spoke. “What is the child’s name?” he asked.  
Kella looked back. “Erica,” she said smiling. She turned and started walking again. Suddenly Kella spoke again. “Dameon...he looks a lot like you,” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. Alad looked up and smiled. “Everything will be alright...dear sister.”  
Then Kella walked out of the clearing and out of sight. She never looked back. But Alad kept staring at the place where Kella had stood. Then he looked down at the parchment again. He opened it carefully, for it seemed so fragile. It contained handprinted writing in black ink and at the bottom was something written in messily obviously not written by the same person as the text on top. But it was written in a different language with symbols and characters. He went back to the writing at the top and read out loud;

When the world is in unbalance, all traitors beware  
The Keeper will come and the phoenix will care  
The ill will fail and the good succeed  
One phoenix blooded girl is all the world needs

The great keeper when she comes will have the power to kill and the power to give life  
at her hand the evil in the land will fall

 

Alad only stared. “The prophecy,” he whispered in awe.


	2. The Beginning of the End

Kella walked and walked, there was only a matter of time before the first snow would fall. She saw the scorched trees again and shuddered at the sight of them. Now that it was daylight she could see clearly the brand of a rebel troop. She wondered how far South they had travelled but the thought was pushed instantly out of her mind at the sight of the river she had crossed some days before. It was frozen. Kella stopped dead. Terror struck her at the thought of the pass being blocked. That meant she would have to wait until Winter was over to get back to Narnia. She ran, over the frozen river and to the pass in between the mountains. To her relief the pass was as clear as it had been when she had entered Archenland through it. Kella’s heart slowed to its normal pace and she walked steadily on towards the mountains. As she walked snow began to fall and her feet became numb again. She was too tired to worry now. But she still thought about everything, the past days. The prophecy. Then she felt for the two lockets around her neck. They had caused her and Alad so much pain. The last thing she wanted was to pass them onto her children. They felt heavy around her neck but not physically, it was more like a burden to her mind, a reminder that they would always be a part of her life. She touched them again, this time they sent a shock to her mind. It was painful, but it made her feel powerful. That was what they did. But only the Keeper could release the full potential of the two lockets put together. For Kella it was just dangerous, she knew that. She had just gone through the pass when she noticed the cold of the snow sinking through her clothes. She tried to brush off the snow but it didn’t do much good. Now, she wished she hadn’t thrown off her cloak. On the way back to the camp she only had short rests. She didn’t want any more delays than there had to be. Kella was starving but she couldn’t help it, and soon she would be home. She thought once more of home, her children, her husband Corin, and wished them good will. Sometimes she could hear their voices inside her head, she wondered if they were real. But one night she dreamed a true-dream, one of frightening premonitions. There were her children and Corin standing at the front of their home, orange light covering their face. Kella could hear screaming but her two children were silent, their lips unmoving. There was a faint clashing of metal but it was far away. Then Corin said something, “Kella,” he whispered despairingly. Then Kella woke to find she was covered in a thick layer of snow. She had had true-dreams before, she knew what they were like, this one was a true-dream, but she reasoned with herself, saying it was the lockets playing tricks on her mind at a time of weakness. But there was a nagging feeling at the back of her mind. So she gathered up her things and walked swiftly towards home, her head still filled with the pictures from the dream. The snow was falling thickly so it was difficult to see far ahead, but she stuck to the narrow path until she came to a split in it. one went East and the other North. Kella took neither. She left the path and plunged into a sparse forest. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a glow on the land. She could hear the horses hoofs beating loudly on the ground and the sound of the blacksmiths banging metal on metal. She smiled weakly to see the camp was unharmed, but she would still be cautious. Her home, like all of the homes in the camp, was a tent, made of canvas with a simple opening at the front. Kella’s home lay on the outskirts of the camp under a large willow tree. The tree nymph who lived in the tree was a beautiful young girl with long green hair, the colour of her leaves, and delicate fingers. Her eyes were the deepest brown and held much knowledge. She often talked to Kella about the happenings on the coast or on the boarders of Narnia. Her voice was almost hypnotizing, so clear and pure, that at the sound of it you would be in a kind of trance, in a way it resembled the way her leaves blew in a light breeze. Her name was Kaumra, the word for calm among the trees. She was the first to greet Kella when she arrived home. She emerged swiftly from the tree and glided toward Kella. “Hello,” she said smiling. Kella returned a smile and a greeting. As soon as Corin heard Kella’s voice he rushed outside carrying Erica in his arms. He ran to her, obvious relief on his face. “Are you alright?” he asked. Kella nodded. “Come, I have prepared breakfast,” his eyes full of excitement. They ate and the day went past quickly. But Kella could only wonder about her true-dream, and she didn’t dare tell anyone else, not even Corin. Days passed and nothing happened, so she concluded that it was just the lockets, which she hid in a trunk under her bed. But one night she dreamed the same dream, except she saw the group of rebels. They were a large group, they could have even been two groups. But the leader of them did not look at all like a rebel. He was richly dressed and he spoke with a different tongue. The rest of the rebels all seemed intimidated by the small skinny figure. When Kella woke she was shaking, speechless, still she did not tell anyone, she was too afraid. That day she decided it was time to give Dameon and Erica the lockets. She had a feeling that if she delayed it any longer it would be too late. She slipped the lockets around the children’s necks and stared smiling at them. Suddenly there was a cold wind through the opening of the tent. Kaumra had glided in silently. But there was fear in her eyes. “There has been a sighting of a large rebel troop nearby, one of the Elder trees said they were going to attack” Kaumra said without a greeting. The urgency in her voice made Kella shudder at the thought of her premonition coming true. “He said he heard them talking about someone who crossed the border into Archenland...they know it was you,” she went on.  
“What does that concern them?” asked Kella, shaking a bit.   
“I don’t know but the Elder said their leader was furious. Oh, and he said something about the leader...but, I can’t really remember.” Kaumra stuttered.   
“Please! Try and remember.” said Kella as calmly as she could.   
“The Elder just said he wasn’t a rebel,” said Kaumra. With those words Kella froze, then rushed outside into the freezing winds and called for Corin. He happened to be just out the front and came almost straight away. Kaumra glided up beside Kella, who looked at her and said, “Did the Elder say if he heard when they are going to attack?” Kaumra looked grave. “Tonight,” she said.


	3. Chapter 3

Corin ran up. “What is it?” he asked searching Kella’s face. “Go get the children,” she replied. He ran off looking uncertain but looking back he saw the camp on the Eastern side ablaze and rebels destroying everything in their path. Kaumra had fled back to her tree to protect it, and Kella just stood, tears rolling down her face. Corin ran inside and grabbed both of the children. He came outside to see half the camp in ruins and Kella still standing exactly where she had been before. He ran to her and tried to pull her away but she stood her ground and shook her head her eyes red and her face pale. “Hide them!” she shouted. “Hide them!” Then she turned and gave Dameon, Erica and finally Corin a kiss on the cheek. Then she pushed Corin away, he walk reluctantly back to the house looking back to see her still standing there, motionless. When he reached the tent he turned and saw a group of rebels approaching. “Kella!” he tried to scream. But it only came out as a sob. Kella turned back to him and tried to smile, her eyes full of sorrow. Then the rebel troop surrounded her and one man who Corin could see was clearly not a rebel stepped up to Kella and hit her hard with his hand and then again with the hilt of a sword, which he had taken from one of the rebels. Kella was now on her knees, blood streaming from her head. Then the leader called out. “Confess, witch.” His voice was malicious and his thin lips curved as he spoke. “Confess,” he shouted. He looked at Kella with burning eyes, full of hatred. He bent down to Kella and whispered. “I know what you are, and I’m going to kill you...your brother...is already dead.” Kella’s heart skipped a beat at his last words. More tears came streaming from her eyes. The leader stood up. “Confess,” he said, his voice like a snake’s. He smiled spitefully at Kella. Her head dropped. “I confess,” she said looking past to see Corin and her children still standing outside the tent. “Good,” said the leader, curving his lips even more. Then he lifted the sword and with one fatal blow Kella was gone. Corin’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, he heard a wicked laugh from the leader of the rebels and fury crossed his mind. But then he remembered Kella, her face and her smile and he whispered, “Kella.” But soon he turned back to reality and remembered the rebels. He turned and ran as fast as he could manage. He looked around at a safe place to hide the children. Then he saw the willow tree. “Kaumra,” he called. She came swiftly to his aid. “Will you take the children...hide them, somewhere safe?” he asked looking at the children. “Of course,” she replied in a whisper. “Nowhere is safer than with a tree nymph,” she said smiling slightly.  
“Thank you,” Corin said giving Erica then Dameon to Kaumra. “I will repay you someday,” Corin said seriously. Then he turned at the sound of the rebels nearing. When he turned back Kaumra and the children were gone, but he could still hear her whispering to them through the branches and the leaves. Only the willow tree saw what happened next, Corin started running but he was surrounded. The rebels were ordered to take him and within minutes they had left, leaving destruction behind them. All the tents had been burned to the ground and all of the people living in the camp had either been captured or fled into the forests. When the snow began to fall again and ease the remaining flames on the ground Kaumra came from her tree, almost all of its branches and leaves charred by flames. She came holding both of the infants. She looked at them and thought for a moment. Then she disappeared. She glided through the night sky across the land, to the coast where she left the children with a large, Elder oak tree. His branches were full of wisdom and he talked slowly. His leaves rustled to shake the snow off as the sun rose over the sea. Kaumra simply set the two children down at the foot of the tree and whispered. “Stay here. As long as you are with Elder Oak you will be safe. I bless you with all my heart and soul...may your destiny be great,” then she turned and glided over the sea and disappeared. The Elder oak often told them stories of passing travelers and of people who came from over the sea. The children had stayed three months with the Elder Oak, when a man from a nearby farm found them. He was puzzled at why two infants would be sitting alone by a tree. But he took them anyway to the nearest town of Zenahan. The small town was one main road away from the coast and was peaceful, surrounded by trees and where beasts roamed freely. He took them into his home where he also had a young son who was about four years old, he took a liking straight away to the newcomers. His name was Phillip The man worked as a seafarer and got paid poorly. But his heart was of gold. He once had been married to a beautiful girl but sadly as a plague struck Zenahan she passed away, just after Phillip had been born. He cared for Dameon and Erica as his own. They had only been with the man for a month or two when one day he did not return from the sea. “Pirates,” whispered one of the men out on the streets. “Took all of em,”   
“What about the three kids he ad?” asked another, shorter man.   
“I’d say they’d be taken to the palace to work, or the farms,” suggested the first man.  
“Nah, they’re too young, probably be sent to the orphanage,” said another man with a long beard. “It’s such a pity about the men, they were the best of my crew,”   
“I guess you’ll just have to train some young uns up then my friend,” said the short man, giving him a slap on the back. The men walked off, down the road and into a noisy pub. The children were still asleep when three men busted open the door. Phillip started screaming and kicking, but Erica and Dameon lay still and unblinking. The men looked gravely at each other. “What do we do with them?” whispered one of the men. He was bald and barred a scars on his face from battles.   
“It’d be best for them to go to the orphanage,” replied one of the other men. Then they each took one child and went out into the cold Winter afternoon. The three children were taken to the orphanage. They stayed there until they were all old enough to go and work. Some children were taken to work on farms, while the few lucky ones were taken to work at the palace on the coast, which was two days walk from Zenahan. Phillip, Dameon and Erica were some of the lucky ones and were taken to the palace. The palace was beautiful, filled with exotic furnishes and surrounded by tall trees and a view of the magnificent Eastern ocean. As children their work was tough, but they were fed and were given a bed, so they never complained. They each began their own solitary lives and grew accustomed to being alone. Their old life was behind them and a new one had been laid out. But troubled memories haunted them, memories in forms of dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

It was probably just the shadows of the dancing trees, or maybe it had been the silhouette of a cruel, twisted face she had seen slipping away, while the orange blaze crackled violently, consuming everything in its path. The camp was disintegrating into black ash while people fled, screaming in terror. She didn’t know if it was real or just a terrible part of her imagination. Whatever it was, it lingered in her mind, haunting her. Some might have seen this as a vision, a true-dream, like what the futuretellers saw. But she always convinced herself it was just an ordinary nightmare, like the ones normal people experience, nothing more. She tossed and turned, encountering the horrors of her mind. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Bright, blazing light, roaring in her mind. People screaming, and something else. A muffled murmur or a whisper. But her mind could not go nearer to hear what was being said. Instead she drew nearer and back out of her dream, though her subconscious mind, then her conscious mind. She opened her eyes, gasping for air. Her head hurt and throbbed violently. She sat up and looked around. The sweat ran down the sides of her face. She let out a breath, closing her eyes and frowning. She touched her forehead with a shaking hand and groaned. Light was streaming though the small open window above her bed, letting in a cool breeze. She shivered. She pulled the covers off herself and stepped onto the cold floor. She jumped as she heard a loud bang as a door nearby was slammed shut. She cursed herself for being so tense. She then heard a man yell out from down the hall. But she didn’t quite catch what he had said, but she did hear the urgency in his voice. She dressed quickly and went over to the door. She was startled to hear a knock on the door, just as she was putting her hand on the handle. She opened the door, that creaked loudly open to find a very weary looking Phillip at the door. He wasn’t even dressed. And Dameon came up behind him looking extremely anxious, he too only wore his bed clothes.   
“Erica,” Phillip said, as she opened the door. His voice sounded very calm, although his face did not match. He paused. “You’d better come,” he said flatly. The two boys led the way though a series of corridor. Erica followed, resisting the urge just to ask them where they were taking her. As they neared the center of the palace Erica heard a faint buzzing. She had noticed quite a few people out of bed and she grew tense at the look on some of their faces. The boys turned down yet another corridor and the buzzing turned into low whispering voices. They led her into a great hall filled with people, she stood in the doorway, unable to see anything. Then the man and women in front of her stepped aside and she saw two soldiers carrying in between them a bed covered in a white blanket. A young woman behind Erica stepped nervously forward and peered at the soldiers. She began to weep and ran forward.   
“My son, my son!” She cried, her sobs echoing through the hall. Erica felt sympathy for the woman. This is what war brings I suppose. She thought. It brings heartache and death to innocent lives. Behind them were more soldiers. About eleven pairs of soldiers passed them. Then there was an icy silence and a scream that near deafened all in the hall. Erica shivered and cringed. Another bed was brought among the silent crowd. And a girl about the same age as Erica walked alongside it as she wept hysterically. A wave of whispers began. Dameon leaned close to Erica and whispered in her ear.   
“It’s the King,” he said. Her heart jumped.   
“Who is going to rule?” she whispered back to Dameon. Surely it would not be the princess that walked, weeping alongside her dead father. She may be the heir but everyone knew she was too young and inpatient to take her father’s throne. Dameon leaned back. “Her, I guess,” he whispered, gesturing to the weeping girl. Suddenly everyone in the hall started to move out. The three were pressed against each other as people swarmed to get out the door. After quite a bit of fuss the three were all alone with the dead king and his daughter. Erica wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how. Then she felt Phillip pulling at her arm. She turned around and saw the king’s advisor standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. His eyebrows were in a ‘V’ shape and his eyes dark, but his lips wore a curved, spiteful smile that sent shivers down Erica’s back. She looked back at the princess then back at Phillip, his face hard, and willing. She let herself be dragged out of the hall still looking over her shoulder at the advisor, who had advanced towards the princess and was now looking down over her and the king. It was now way into the afternoon and the sun was shining brightly over the sea, making it glisten beautifully. Erica went about her work, sweeping the floors and hanging out the washing, but her mind was elsewhere. She often daydreamed about Narnia’s golden age, she remembered well the stories her mother had told to her when she was younger. At midmeal she ate alone. She was quite content with living a solitary life. She had learned this through the orphanage she had lived in. There she had spent all of her time thinking about the future and adventures. Now she felt foolish to have thought such absurd, impossible things. The only people she ever really talked to were Phillip and Dameon. They were lucky to have been kept together at the orphanage in Zenahan, most other children were split from their siblings and sent to different orphanages. Erica had thought it best to keep to herself, not to make friends, in fear that she would hurt if they got taken away. Her other resolve was her book, her only possession. She had stolen it from the Zenahan library just before she left for the palace. She had read it many times and knew all the stories back to front. The book intrigued her but also made her long to live in the golden age even more. It was a history book. Narnia’s history. It was the second volume that contained all the stories and legends of the golden age. At midmeal she read the story of the voyage of the Dawn Treader. It was one of her favourite stories. It was one of the longer stories so she sat in the dining hall until it was dark and the full moon cast an eerie light into the courtyard coming off the dining hall. She looked around, she was alone. She looked down, she hadn’t eaten a thing. She picked up the bowl and scraped the food into the bin. She walked over to the kitchen and placed the bowl onto a bench. She looked around again. The cook wasn’t even there. She walked to the door and turned the handle, it turned silently and she smiled. The door creaked open, she looked behind her incase someone had heard her. Then she slipped silently into the night.

 

The door clicked shut behind her. She stared at the sea in front of her and sighed. It was beautiful, but it seemed to highlight the smallness and insignificance of her life. She looked up at the full moon, it seemed to far away. Probably because it is, she thought to herself. She closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet sea air. Erica often came out to look at the sea, it calmed her. It cleared her mind. She sat down on the hard stone and hugged her knees to her chest. Sometimes she wished she had someone other than Phillip and Dameon to talk to. But even Phillip didn’t know her secret. She didn’t know what he’d think and she didn’t even know what she thought. And it was Dameon’s secret too so it would be betraying him as well as herself. They were born like that, she guessed. They could use their minds in extraordinary ways. As far as Erica could tell she and Dameon could communicate to each other through their minds. But she wasn’t sure if Dameon could do it as well, but she could transfer and read emotions. She thought of this as quite a pointless ability and sometimes quite hurtful. Sometimes someone would be filled with so much hate that it hurt her. To her these abilities were cursed and she felt she would be treated as some sort of mutant if anyone found out. She sent out a probe and touched many minds, most were asleep, but it calmed her. She suddenly felt very drained and stood up. She went back to the door and turned the handle, but to her horror it was locked. She went around the side of the palace and tried to climb over the courtyard fence, but her limbs were aching and worked against each other. She stood, thinking for a moment. Then she ran to the other side of the palace and sent out a probe attuned to Dameon’s mind. He had some difficulty reaching him for he was sleeping, but finally she crashed through his sleep barrier and woke him. “I am locked out of the palace,” she sent urgently. Dameon’s mind was still dazed from the mental blow Erica had given him but he managed to reply. “Meet me down at the kitchen, I will let you in,” he sent.   
“But it is locked,” Erica sent back.   
“I’ll find a way,” he sent, his mind voice wavering slightly. Then Erica lost connection. She ran back to the kitchen door, her throat dry from the cool air. She waited in the shadows of the palace until she heard a click and saw Darga stick his head out of the kitchen door. Orange light from the kitchen flooded out onto the grass and lit up Dargas face with an unusual glow. Erica stepped out of the shadows and walked to him. He widened the door and gave a signal to be quiet. She followed him. The warmth filled Erica up and thawed her shivering hands. They continued silently through the kitchen and out into the dark corridor, shutting the kitchen door softly behind them. Dameon turned abruptly and walked down the corridor without a word. Erica frowned and began to follow him but then thought better of it. Instead she returned back to her chambers and slept. But she slept restlessly and woke up before sunrise. She felt there was no point in trying to go back to sleep so she sat on her bed and slot her finger randomly into a place in the book and opened the book. The page that she had opened to was a coloured picture of great rocky mountains that reached up into the clouds, green grass, apple trees and bushes full of berries lay beneath. Aslan’s Country. The picture was so delicately painted, so detailed and so real. It might’ve only been a picture but Erica would have given anything to be there, to smell the air, and feel the grass beneath her feet. She sighed and turned the page, resisting the urge to keep staring at the picture. She gasped and almost dropped the book as her head was filled with whispering voices, all speaking at once, merging together so that it was impossible to make anything of what they were saying, if they were saying anything at all. Erica looked directly forward, out the window, the moon had disappeared and the mountains on the Western side of Narnia were slightly purpled with the distance. One star shone brightly above the peak of the smallest mountain, she gazed. Then her thoughts went back to the voices in her head, they had stopped. Although, now, she wasn’t certain she hadn’t just imagined them in the first place. But suddenly one voice spoke out and rang in her ears. “It would be the greatest honor to set my own eyes on your country sir,” spoke the voice, it faded slightly at the end like in a dream just before you wake up. Then suddenly the sound of laughter sprang into her mind, filling her up with joy. It made her jump at first, but it gave her warmth. Then the warmth started to fade and the laughter grew cold and sinister. Erica cringed and tried to block her ears but the laughter was inside her head and it only grew louder. She started to pant and her head grew hot. The pain building up was almost unbearable, she wanted to cry out but she couldn’t. The laughter got louder and louder and colder and darker, seeping into her mind like a liquid. It had almost taken her when she forced herself with everything she had within her push the laughter and the whispering voices into her mindstream to be taken to the depths of her sub-conscious mind. She heard the laughter turn into a cry of anguish that pierced her ears and then heard it drowning in her thoughts. It was gone. Sweat was dripping down Erica’s face, mixed with tears rolling down her cheeks. Her head burned and throbbed heavily, like her pulse was about to explode. She tried to steady her breathing, but her heart set the pace and it was beating wildly. She tried to remember the one thing the voice had said before it turned to laughter, but it seemed all very vague now, a bit unreal, like it had never happened. Although her shaking hands were clear evidence that it was all very real. She got up abruptly and started for the window, as she took her first steps she almost fell over, but she managed to keep her balance and staggered to the window. She lent on the sill hard and stared into the bowl of water. She looked into her own eyes and cried. The water rippled and her reflection disappeared as a tear fell. Erica scooped up the water and splashed her face, she gasped at the freezing cold. She looked out the window and saw the mountains getting brighter and the star fade slowly away. She closed her eyes and breathed in. Best to push the memory as far back as possible, best to forget about it, she thought. She went back to the bed with shaky legs and was about to sit down when someone knocked loudly on the door. It had been silent up until now so it gave Erica a slight scare. She sat there for a moment then got up and walked to the door. She unlocked it and almost groaned when she saw Carrie, the head of all the servants in the palace, standing one hand on her hip and the other just about to knock again. Carrie was a large, bulky woman with short brown hair. She always wore the same frowning expression on her face and her hands were almost always fisted, on her hips or folded across her chest. She may have looked like she did all the chores in the palace, but in fact she did nothing. She was too busy criticising the other servants and patrolling the corridors for servants not at work to do any herself. Or that’s how she saw it in her eyes anyway. Carrie’s arm sank back slowly to her hip and opened her moth to say something but it died on her lips, instead she frowned and stared past Erica, to the bed. Carrie walked steadily into the room, pushing Erica hard on the way. She gave a kind of grunt of amusement, and turned back to Erica with one hand behind her back. She gave a spiteful laugh. Then she whipped out Erica’s book from behind her back. Erica groaned ,intentionally inwardly, but not, as she had hoped. Carrie’s smile only broadened at Erica’s displeasure. Carrie started to walk towards Erica, beginning to flick roughly through the yellowed pages of the book. Erica began to feel herself redden and her pulse getting quicker. She backed into the door that slammed shut loudly. The big woman was approaching her eyes changing from the book to Erica and back again. Then Carrie stopped and looked at Erica, her eyes narrow. “Where did you get this?” She asked, slapping the book against the palm of her other hand. “My mother gave it to me,” Erica lied. Then Carrie came dangerously close and leant in. “Don’t lie to me girl,” Carrie whispered menacingly. Erica didn’t look at Carrie but she knew Carrie was looking straight into her eyes. She willed herself not to show anything on her face that would give her away. Finally she shook her head, not trusting her voice. Carrie stared harshly at Erica, audibly gritting her teeth. Then she grabbed Erica’s wrist, and squeezed hard. Erica cringed and looked into Carries face. Carrie could have snapped Erica’s wrist if she had wanted to so Erica stayed very still and did not struggle. “I’m warning you,” Carrie said, making a twisted face and squeezing harder. Abruptly she threw both Erica’s hand and the book down, grunting with satisfaction. Then she pushed Erica aside and swung open the door, which thudded loudly on the wall. Carrie stopped in the doorway. “Oh, and you’ll be working in the kitchen this week,” she said, with a hint of amusement in her voice. Then she walked out and slammed the door harshly. It struck a blow in Erica at these words. The kitchen. She had worked there before, when she had first come to work at the palace. There was another girl there, Kaye, she and her mother worked there, her mother was just as bad as Carrie. She remembered when Kaye had poured boiling water on her lap while she was peeling carrots. Of course her mother scolded her harshly, which was quite amusing for Erica. It hurt a lot but Erica had learnt over the years at the orphanages that others don’t want to know what you are thinking, so she never really showed her emotions. Erica dressed slowly and dragged her feet as she walked to the kitchen. When she arrived Kaye was sitting in the dining hall eating breakfast along with a few other servants. She passed Kaye by without a glance. She pushed the door to the kitchen, a warm air wafted into Erica’s face. Something was cooking, probably breakfast for the council. Erica walked further into the kitchen and caught sight of Kaye’s mother, Ava was her name if Erica remembered correctly. She was standing over a huge pot stirring some sort of soup. Erica saw her take out a silver spoon from a drawer and taste some of the soup. Kaye’s mother grunted with approval and turned sharply around to look Erica in the face. Erica almost jumped at the darkness of her eyes. Ava took two enormous strides toward Erica and was almost face to face with her, face to face because Ava was quite a small woman. Ava looked at Erica as if she was searching her for something. “You’ll do,” said Ava finally, turning beginning to walk back to the stove. But Erica hadn’t the slightest idea of what she was supposed to be doing. “Oh, and you can start by washing those dishes,” she said, as if reading Erica’s mind. Ava pointed to a pile of dishes stacked up by the sink. Erica doubted she would even be able to reach the top of the pile, and looking at it her jaw almost dropped. She wondered how there could be so many dishes unwashed when breakfast had only just begin. Erica walked wearily to the sink. She was right about not being able to reach the top dish, she had to pull a stool up and stand on that to reach it. She had no encounters with Kaye throughout the day, Erica thought she had probably been sent to work in the gardens for she never saw her in the corridors during the day. Erica worked hard through the week, cleaning and peeling vegetables. The air in the kitchen was thick and stuffy so half way through the week Erica fell ill and lost a considerable amount of weight. She had never felt more drained in her life. It was an unusual sort of unnatural tiredness that came on all of a sudden. So when the week was over she said goodbye to the kitchen gladly, thanking Ava, then muttering that she didn’t know what for. She lay on her bed on Sunday night, unthinking, with her eyes closed. She listened to the wind whistling past her window and soon she fell into an uneasy slumber, full of dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

Erica woke the next morning cold and feverish. It was bright already which meant she had overslept. She sat up and blinked hard trying to adjust her eyes to the bright light. She knew she had dreamt but it was hazy and hard to understand. She was somewhere cold and dark. She was standing high up in the clouds and someone was talking to her, but the words would not join in her mind. Erica was distracted all of that morning, lost in her thoughts. She finally snapped out of this just after midmeal. She had just finished taking down the washing from the line staring dismally into the brown bricked wall stand opposite her. She walked though a small courtyard near the center of the palace and looked up, the sun was right overhead and it glared its radiant beams down on her. Erica stood there, soaking it up until clouds showed overhead and blotted out the sun from view. Suddenly it was very cold and a chilling breeze swept past her. So she hastened her pace and left the courtyard. Her arms were sore, weighted down by the damp washing so when she got to the washing room she dropped the basket in relief. It took a lot longer than intended to fold all the sheets and towels so it was past nightmeal when she had finished. It had now grown into a cold, wet night and the corridors were drafty. Most in the palace had retired to their bed chambers. But due to the delay in folding the washing Erica had yet to take them to the various rooms around the palace. She started in the Northern end of the palace and worked her way around. The last few things to be delivered were to the royal advisor. Erica despised him, just the way he looked at everyone, like they were less important than himself. In some ways he was, but he looked down on people like Erica like they weren’t even human. She stood looking into the wooden door and took a deep breath. She knocked. There was no response so she knocked again, slightly louder. Again no one answered. So she tried the handle, to her complete surprise it was unlocked. She pushed the door, it opened silently, and she walked in leaving the door slightly ajar. She looked around warily, no one was there. So she set the pile of sheets and towels on a chair in the corner of the room. It was a very large room with a double bed, desk, a fireplace and three curtained windows. Erica looked around again, the room was elaborately furnished with rich colours. Erica began to walk back when she heard voices in the corridor outside. She froze with fear. The voices moved past the door. She almost ran to the door and put her ear next to the door, they moved back, level with the door. Her heart thumped. But they kept walking on. The footsteps faded down the corridor. She opened the door slightly, she couldn’t hear anything so she slipped out of the room, closed the door behind her and ran. She could feel cold sweat dripping down her neck as she reached her bed chambers. She hoped no one had seen her. It was too cold to undress so she slid under the covers and drifted away into an uneasy rest. The following days were completely normal. Erica was half expecting someone to take her by the arm and throw her out of the palace, but nothing of the sort happened. Although, a few months later, when the air was warm and the sun glared blindingly of the glimmering sea, Erica encountered something odd. She was walking to Dameon’s bed chambers when she heard voices coming from a door that led directly out of the palace. This door was almost always locked and was only there for emergencies. Erica stopped dead when she heard the voices. She stood listening for a moment and was shocked to hear the royal advisors voice, she knew it was him, there was no doubt about his strange foreign accent. But she didn’t recognise the other mans voice. So she kept listening. They were both speaking in low voices so it was near impossible to hear what they were saying. So Erica sent out a probe to the advisors mind. As soon as she touched his mind she would be able to hear everything clearly. But she jumped with fright when her probe was pushed away. She tried again, this time probing the other man. His mind was a jumble, pieces of memories scattered everywhere and gaps where things seemed to have disappeared. But it would do. The words echoed in her head. The advisor was speaking. “It will be safe after the summer, when the new soldiers will be trained and half of the current ones will train them. And the princess will be crowned as Queen in the early Autumn. The kingdom is weak,” he said this last sentence in an even lower voice, the words chilled Erica’s blood. “Tell your master I will meet with him in a fortnight, do not disappoint me,” he said. Erica finally got a glimpse of the man she was probing as he started walking away. He had been born in Narnia, but had been taken, then there was a block. This passage through his mind was strangely distorted and blurred. He had once had a wife, but she was killed by his master who felt the man’s loyalty was split. There were more blocks. Then there was a dark patch in his mind which seemed to be the cause for all the blocks. This was the sinister part of his mind, and it was spreading like wildfire. She could hear it whisper. He was a bandit. Erica withdrew, shocked at her discovery. The advisor was plotting against the kingdom, with the bandits. She wondered who his master was but her thoughts were disrupted by the click of the door handle, followed by the creaking hinges. There was no escape now. Erica walked casually past the advisor who was locking the door behind him. She avoided his eyes that bore into her back as she walked away. She hoped enough disinterest showed in her face to cause no suspicion. Then she heard faint footsteps turn and walk away. Erica forgot completely about visiting Dameon’s bed chambers and about midmeal. Even as she sat at a table in the dining hall at nightmeal she felt she had no appetite. She felt sick. Something in her stomach was weighing her down. She read her book but her mind was somewhere else. Her face was usually quite tanned for she worked outside sometimes and she often slipped away and watched the ocean. But her face was deathly pale and shadows fell under her eyes. She sat reading her book until she was alone and then she fell into a fitful sleep. Phillip heard her screaming out while he was passing, on his way to his bed chambers. He rushed to her and shook her to consciousness. Erica opened her eyes and fell back into Phillip’s arms. She stared past him aimlessly, her eye blank. Phillip started to panic, sweat beaded on his brow. “Erica!” He shouted. Erica’s eyes moved to his. “Erica,” he whispered.   
“Phillip?” Erica said. All at once everything came back to Erica, it flooded her mind. She burst into tears. Phillip hugged her, not knowing what else to do. She was shivering violently, but her skin was burning. He pushed her back and looked into her eyes and felt a wave of despair flow through him. Then she spoke with a quivering almost inaudible voice. “He entered my dreams, he knew it was me, he knows I know,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. Phillip put a steady hand on her shoulder. “It was just a dream,” he said, as calmly as he could manage.   
“No! It was real...you have to believe me,” Erica stammered. Phillip looked around.   
“I’ll take you to Dameon,” he said assuringly. He took Erica’s trembling hands and led her to Dameon’s bed chambers. He burst into the room with Erica behind him. Dameon stood up from his bed and ran to Erica. When Phillip let her go she almost fell to the ground but Dameon was there for her to lean on. He took her over to the bed and sat her down. Phillip left the room saying that he would be in his bed chambers if Dameon needed him. Dameon knelt by the bed and stared up into Erica’s face. He stayed there silently watching her until she finally spoke. “He entered my dreams,” she said. Dameon felt puzzled.  
“Who entered your dreams?” He asked steadily. Erica only shook her head in despair. Finally she sent him a mental image. It was the royal advisor. She replayed to him what she had overheard and what she had seen in the bandit’s mind. Erica was unsteady and the images were rough, so when Dameon had seen everything he had a severe headache. He touched his head and groaned. Erica apologised and pulled herself together slightly. They sat silently for a while before Dameon finally spoke.  
“You have to be certain it was him,” he said mildly.  
“You saw for yourself!”   
“You have to be certain,” he repeated.   
Erica was a wreck, mentally and physically, and she could hold herself together no longer. She gave Dameon a stare and he stared back.  
“Breathe,” he sent soothingly. Dameon possibly had some Talent in empathy, but it was slight. Even still his mental voice was gentle and calming. Erica breathed deeply before speaking again.  
“How do I get proof?” she asked. Dameon shook his head.  
“Even if you have proof, he is well trusted in the palace, and saying anything against him would get you killed.” Erica frowned.  
“So you expect me to do nothing, practically handing the palace to the bandits?” She said.  
“Perhaps,” answered Dameon.  
“We will all be killed,” Erica cried.  
“Maybe that was what was always intended for us,” he said despairingly. “I can think of no other way.”


	6. Chapter 6

When the sun rose the next morning it was cold and gloomy. Erica sat at the end of her bed tying the laces on her boots as she heard thunder crash. She walked to the window, and looked down. Hundreds of men, all soldiers were gathered outside the palace doors with their arms loaded with packs. These were the new soldiers to be trained in the remote valley in the West and would return in the early Spring. This was just another reminder of what was to come. She had dreamed of the Chief advisor that night, he was talking to her, but in another language. He laughed and suddenly Erica was sitting next to Dameon looking out over the ocean, but as he talked his voice changed, and he laughed, the same laugh as the chief advisor. And when he turned to face her his eyes were cold and black. The laughter echoed in her mind as she woke. She turned away from the window in despair and walked to the door. Then a thought passed at the front of her mind. All she needed was proof that the Chief advisor was plotting against the kingdom. If she could find something that would prove he was guilty she could show anyone and they’d believe her. Erica knew it would be risky snooping around like that, but she didn’t really have a choice, if she wanted to live. She worked hard to finish her chores and ate her midmeal hastily. Erica made her way warily to the Eastern side of the palace avoiding people when she could. She sent out a probe to make sure no one was in the room and slipped inside swiftly. She was surprised that the door had been left unlocked but she made herself forget about it. It was brighter in the room than she remembered, with the curtains pulled back it was actually quite a pleasant room. Erica wasted no time studying the room though, she headed straight for the desk that sat in the far corner of the room. She began searching through papers and the drawers but found nothing but letters from the citizens of the kingdom and lists of people who hadn’t payed their taxes. She was searching through the last drawer when she sensed someone drawing nearer, and was walking swiftly towards the room. She closed the drawer hastily and ran to the door but tripped. She looked down, she saw only the carpet, but she moved her hand over it and felt a large bump. Erica pulled back the carpet. A trapdoor was concealed beneath it. She tugged at the rusty handle and the trapdoor swung silently open. Before she closed it over her head, she had a glimpse of the door handle turning, then she slipped into darkness. The ladder she climbed stopped halfway down, so she jumped the rest. As she landed lightly on her toes dust and dirt swirled around her, making her cough. Erica felt her way through the darkness for a time before finding a torch and lighting it. The flames glowed eerily lighting up piles of books and rusted cabinets. What would have been colourful tapestries hung on the walls, if it weren’t for all the dust. She wondered if the Chief Advisor knew of this hidden room. Judging by the state of things it looked as if it had been neglected for over fifty years. Although as she walked through the book-lined corridors it seemed to get progressively cleaner and less cluttered. All of the books were covered in dust and held the seal from Cair Paravel. Erica went to pick one up. The words on the front were faded and the binding torn and when she opened it the pages were stiff and yellow. She set the book down carefully and continued to walk. It seemed to be getting colder and she had the sensation that she was walking slightly downwards. She could possibly be nearing the dungeons or even lower, she didn’t know. Finally she came to a circular room. It was decorated with rich deep colours and smelt of sweet incense. It was the end of the corridor. She was about to leave, she didn’t want a beating from Carrie for being late, when something caught her eye as it reflected brightly off the torch’s flame. She walked to it, a plaque. She read the words aloud, although she did not know why.  
“Queen Susan the Gentle’s bow, arrows and horn,” she read.   
Erica looked up from the plaque to see a bow, arrow and a horn. She had seen pictures in her book of these, the gift from Father Christmas to the King and Queens of old. Suddenly the flame on the torch flickered. It occurred to her that it might loose light any moment and she didn’t fancy walking back in full dark. So she walked hastily back up the corridor. She didn’t know how she managed but she came to the trapdoor. She waited and listened for any sign of life. Nothing. She waited. Nothing. Finally she put out the torch and climbed the ladder. She pushed the top of the trapdoor up, expecting to see someones feet or even the leg of a chair, but no. She saw a tree, a forest. She peered around and saw the sky turn pink then red and orange and finally a deep blue. The moon cast a glow of light in front of her, illuminating the rest of the surroundings. From the forest she could see the palace, but it was a mild night so she spent it outside. She slept against the trunk of an old tree with weeping limbs and peeling bark. She dreamed.

She was on a beach, somewhere, but it didn’t seem familiar. She was hiding in a cave, cold, with water dripping down the walls. She saw a group of men leading a three girls about her own age out to a boat, their hands were bound, one of them was sobbing audibly. Erica watched as they were loaded onto the boats and then disappeared over the ocean.

She woke to a bird’s song. Long high notes, clear for all the world, if they would only listen. Erica walked back to the palace and joined Dameon for firstmeal. Phillip was nowhere to be seen. Ever since that night she had dreamed he had been avoiding Erica, or that’s how she felt anyway.   
“Where have you been?” Dameon asked.  
“Nowhere,” Erica said, not looking up from her plate.  
She got up and returned to her bed chambers. She looked around. One bed. In one empty room. And she knew why. No one wanted to share chambers with her. Fine by me, she thought gloomily. She sat on her bed and put her head in her hands. A tear rolled down her cheek, immediately she sat up and wiped it away. She looked at the single tear on the back of her hand, scowled and wiped it angrily on her apron. Suddenly, there was a shout from down the hall. Erica poked her head out of the door. Then a whole chorus of screams and cries erupted through the passage. Erica ran to her window. She looked down and saw an army, all burly men dressed in brown and black, with weapons and carrying crates between them. No! Not yet! She thought. She ran out of the room, she had to find Dameon, and Phillip if she could. She smashed into something, or someone. Phillip. He pulled her up roughly, her hand just missing someone’s footfall. Phillip pulled her close, but she resisted.  
“Where’s Dameon!?” She shouted above the noise.   
He gave her a despairing look that made her heart break in two. He kept silent and pulled her along the hall. Battered and pushed around by panicked servants, Phillip still kept a firm grip on Erica’s hand. But Erica stopped.   
“Where are you going?” She shouted.  
“I’m getting you out of here.”  
“No. Come with me!” And she pulled him up the nearest stairs. They were narrow and deserted, but lead to where she wanted to go. She stopped at the Chief Advisors chambers.   
“What?!” Said Phillip.  
Erica went straight in. It was empty. She rushed to the trapdoor opened it and slid in. Phillip didn’t follow. He can take care of himself, she thought. She ran through the maze of books, piled high and finally reached the dead end. She paused over the cabinet containing the horn and smashed it with the bottom of her torch. She grabbed it and ran. This time she came out in the corridor that lead to her chambers and the charts room. She began to run to her chambers when she heard voices. She hadn’t noticed the silence. No servants ran, screaming in the hall. A feeling of foreboding suddenly swept over Erica. She turned and saw three men standing just above the trapdoor. Coincidence? No. One of them held a malicious looking curved sword, the other two held a crate between them.   
“Lose our way did we sweetheart?” Mocked the one with the sword.  
Erica ran. She heard the crate being dropped onto the concrete floor and the sound of heavy footsteps echoing after her. She rounded a corner and slipped into a cupboard. She looked next to her and had an idea. She pulled the head of the broom off, leaving the stick. It would do as a weapon. She was fast, but couldn’t keep running forever. Get outside of the castle, that was the plan. She opened the door as she heard the first man pass and swung the stick out, hitting the other two in the stomach, making them curl over, holding their stomachs. Erica ran the way she had come.   
“Erica!” Shouted Dameon in her mind. She scooted around a corner and into her room.   
“Dameon! Where are you?” Sent Erica.   
No response. Then a banging on the door. No escape now. The three bandits crashed through the door, making Erica jump.  
“Look here,” one of them sneered.  
“Shut up and grab her, Goel!” Said the one with the sword.   
The other two advanced towards her. Erica had to think fast. She raised the horn to her lips and blew. A hollow sound came out of it, and the bandits exchanged confused glances. Nothing happened, the bandits grabbed Erica’s wrists and began pulling her towards the door. She squirmed, still with the horn in her hand.  
“Stop that,” said Goel and slapped her across the face.  
It stung her skin and brought tears to Erica’s eyes but she still fought to get free. Then suddenly an explosion went off next to the door, splintering it and setting them on fire. Erica ducked away from the flying debris but a large piece of wood lodged itself in her shoulder. She yanked it out with teeth clenched.   
“What? No!” Said the man with the sword.   
He ran out of the room and down the passage without a word. The other two glanced at each other and dropped Erica’s wrists, she lunged at the one on the left about to strike, when the one on the right grabbed her around the waist and flung her to the floor. She saw them flee through the shattered door. Trying to move only caused spots to swirl in her vision. Before she could brace for anything something hard hit her head and then dreams and darkness engulfed her.

Flames danced and so did the fauns and dryads. A slow, haunting music could barely be heard over the leaping flames’ roaring and crackling. Explosions of laughter erupted from the circles dancers around the flames and soon the explosions became real as spheres of fire rained down from the sky, shaking the ground as they came in contact. Quickly flame spread and there was screaming and fleeing. But the music persisted. Erica wondered where the source was. She also wondered how she could stand in the flames and not be burnt. Still, she could feel the heat and the sweat running down her spine, gathering on her forehead. Then she saw her. A small faun girl, playing the wistful music on a wooden flute. The flames gathered towards her rapidly. Erica screamed.

She wasn’t sure if this was still a dream or not, but Erica prayed it was. She woke with a sharp pain in her side and a dull, pressing ache on her chest. She opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t. Flame, resembling that of her dream, licked at her stretched out fingers and uncovered legs. The pressing on her chest was a fallen roof beam, which wouldn’t budge no matter how frantically she tried to shove it off. Her arms were just too weak. Fatigue saved her, darkness claimed her in its safe warm arms.


	7. Chapter 7

“Ha! But you made the best dragon Narnia has ever seen Eustace!” Said Lucy.  
Eustace paused. “Yes, I suppose.” He grinned.  
“But I can’t believe you and Jill went back! And you said Caspian died! I was so hoping that if we ever went back I would see him again.” She sighed looking glum.  
Edmund looking out the window turned then.  
“You know what he said Lu. We can’t go back now. We belong here now,” he smiled sadly.  
They were finally home, the whole family. Well, almost. Susan and Peter were supposed to arrive soon for lunch with Eustace’s family as well.   
“Oh! Look! Who is it Edmund? Can you see?” Cried Lucy pointing out the window. Before Edmund could answer, or for that matter know himself, Peter and Susan stood in the doorway, holding large trunks in both hands. They dropped them where they stood and rushed with broad smiles to greet their younger siblings. There was much hugging and words on how tall they had grown. Susan took a step back from Lucy after a long, tight embrace.   
“Look at you,” she said, Lucy looked down at herself sheepishly. “How you’ve grown. You are as tall as tall as I am! You look so much older.” Lucy smiled.  
Meanwhile, Eustace sat back and watched, then in a sudden Peter turned towards him and shook his hand, saying how good it was to see him again after long years. Of course the two youngest Pevensies had sent letters to Peter and Susan, of their latest, and sadly, last visit to Narnia. That had been a year ago. And Eustace had gone back, this time with a girl in his class named Jill Pole.   
“Eustace, it’s good to see you,” said Susan.  
Eustace shook her hand.  
Everyone was quiet for a moment, but on all of their insides, they were fizzing with joy and excitement.  
“You should say hello to Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold and Mother. When is Father coming home?” Asked Lucy.  
“Should be on his way,” said Peter, looking at his watch. “His train should just be in the station now.”  
“I’ll say hello to everyone once I put my trunks in the bedroom,” Said Susan, starting towards the door.  
“Yes, me as well,” agreed Peter.  
They both left for their respective rooms.  
Susan remembered every twist and turn of the small but comfortable house and soon found herself in her Lucy’s bedroom. The bed was neatly made and a fresh jug of flowers sat on the otherwise empty dressing table. She relieved herself of her heavy bags next to the door and went to the mirror. She plucked a yellow daisy from the vase and put it to her nose. Her reflection did the same. Smelt like home. She peered into the mirror, checking her hair and started to leave when she heard a voice. It called her name.  
“Yes, what is it?” She asked down the hall even though she was sure it came from inside her room.   
“Susan,” the voice whispered. It sounded faintly familiar. “Come here.”  
Susan approached the sound, her fingers tingled and her mind buzzed, a smile found itself on her lips. It felt like magic. She checked the room for anyone.  
“Hello? Where are you?” Susan called.  
She heard footsteps coming from the lounge.  
Susan looked at herself in the eye through the mirror, wondering if she had lost her mind. She put a hand to her temple and rubbed, but stopped. Her reflection was...Waving at her? No. Now she had most certainly lost her mind and her sense. But the feeling of magic still surrounded. She peered closer to the mirror.  
“Come with me,” the reflection of Susan said, holding out her hand. The glass rippled as Susan saw a hand just like hers reach towards her. No wonder the voice sounded familiar. It was her own.   
“Wait, what about my brothers and sister. And Eustace?” Asked Susan.  
At that very moment, fate made Peter, Edmund, Lucy and Eustace to the doorway, a look of awe mingled with excitement covered all of their features.  
“Come on!” Shouted Edmund, jogging towards Susan. The others followed.  
“Hold hands. And don’t let go,” said Susan.  
When everyone was ready Susan turned to her reflection and grasped her own hand.

A sensation of falling and flying at the same time was what they all felt after Susan’s reflection had pulled them all through the mirror. There was no light for a very long time. But all of a sudden light flashed and splotches of green turned into trees. They all landed with a thud, thankfully on soft grass, their ears still ringing with the fast wind that had been flying past them just a moment before.


End file.
